


welcome to where time stands still (the no one leaves remix)

by soundingsea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character of Color, Chromatic Character, Dark Agenda, F/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundingsea/pseuds/soundingsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Green eyes and freckles make an appealing package; Risa's interested despite herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	welcome to where time stands still (the no one leaves remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musesfool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Dover Test](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039) by [victoria_p (musesfool)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p). 



> Largely set during 5x04 "The End", but spoilers for all of Season 5, to be safe. Thanks to spiralleds for beta-reading draft after draft, nwhepcat for a lightning-fast beta with insight that helped fix my ending, and ironchefjoe &amp; melange, as this benefited from their thoughts.

The black crow in the pomelo tree unfurls its wings; Risa shivers at the sight. "The uwak is a bad omen," she tells Alex. She tugs at his hand, feels the breeze whipping her hair around her face.

They run through the barangay, passing houses decorated with fruits, vegetables, and delicious kiping made of rice. The festival decorations shrivel, rice crackling though it has not yet been shown the fire, mangos dripping orange.

Alex stops, gripping Risa's wrist tightly. She turns and looks into his all-black eyes, then gasps for breath as he gestures and her throat tightens. Her vision blurs as a cruel smile spreads across his face.

Risa snaps awake, mouth dry and heart pounding. A cold sweat soaks threadbare sheets, but her lungs fill with air. Long, ragged breaths later, the army surplus cot creaks as Dean blinks awake and reaches for her.

* * *

There was never a Pahiyas Festival with Alex, never a whirlwind honeymoon in the Philippines before monsoon season, never a May wedding with Sarah and Neneya in coordinating dresses and shoes... that life, those dreams, were then. _Then_ stopped when Alex's eyes went black and something inside him tried to kill her.

There's only the endless now. _Now_ the blast of a shotgun and the thing that isn't Alex crumpling to the floor. _Now_ target practice with Ellen, Latin with Rufus, painting devil's traps with Jo. _Now_ heading out on her own with a truck some friend of Ellen's fixed up for her, so she can make a difference.

Staying on the move means she doesn't ache too much for the people the demons take. No personal stake in host survival makes hunting that much easier.

* * *

When the first crotes hit the news, Risa thinks the world has gone insane from too many signs and portents. But it's not just a few people; it's damn near everybody. Towns full of demons were one thing, but now the National Guard's on the scene and not even making a dent.

The flu pandemic was bad enough, but at least the vaccination program was speedy. When Croatoan hits right after that, public health response is already tapped out. Risa tries reaching Ellen, but she and Jo have fallen off the grid. Rufus doesn't know where they've gone.

Roadblocks start making travel even more of a pain than the zombie hordes already do. Looks bad for the incumbent when what's left of Congress revokes the right to assemble. Risa is amazed when the Palin/Bachmann ticket actually wins, though she's more surprised they went ahead with the election.

Quarantines only work as well as your containment. Too many people hopped planes before they closed down US airspace. Word is, the virus finally got through the Pacific Quarantine Blockade; there are cases in Sydney. Manila can't be far behind. Risa hopes her family can fight it off, hide in the mountains, keep the world at bay... but international calls are a joke, and she'll never know.

* * *

The camp in Ohio isn't as bad as Detroit or Minneapolis or Kansas City, which are chainlink and crotes as far as the eye can see. There's a good perimeter, and she never would have found it if she hadn't connected with a patrol. Dean Winchester's always looking for steady hands and sure shots. She tries not to think about the hunters they've lost in the year she's been here.

This thing with Dean -- Risa doesn't want to make it more than it is. Before, she would have shared a bottle of wine with Neneya or Sarah and deconstructed every encounter. But she last saw Sarah slavering behind a chain-link fence, and Neneya was in Houston when the nukes hit.

So they fuck. So what? It's not about hearts, just bodies. She can't let it be more, even when he smiles and the chittering horror of their lives fades to a dull roar. Even if she's suffused with warmth when he says they have a connection, as cheeseball a line as that is. Just the booze talking.

* * *

Risa's late, and later still. Chuck's toilet paper obsession hasn't extended to sticks you can pee on and get answers, but she's pretty sure. She isn't about to tell Dean, though. He's not exactly the Lamaze class type, and this isn't a world where she can bear the thought of being helpless.

Not a chance in hell she's going to give up patrol, either. What else is there? Lolling about listening to Castiel's new-age bullshit about cosmic enlightenment through orgasm? No thanks.

No point worrying about what happens in a few months when she can't hide it, since there's never a guarantee she'll see tomorrow.

* * *

Dean says he's found the Colt, that it can take out Lucifer. Maybe the gun will perform as advertised, and maybe not, but can Dean look at his brother, in body if not mind, and pull the trigger?

If she'd ever held a gun before the whole thing with Alex, would she have been able to? The Risa of then, likely not. She's harder now.

* * *

Morning sickness doesn't wait for a reasonable hour. In the cold grey light before dawn, she's outside, boots pulled on but untied, wishing she were still asleep. As she straightens up and wipes her mouth, she sees Dean coming out of Jane's cabin. The chill from the breeze turns to an icy knot in the pit of her stomach.

Dean never made her any promises, but she believed him anyhow. And he doesn't promise anything when he tells them the shape of things to come. She has no illusions anymore. Got a world to save, even if they die trying. She just wishes he'd give it to them straight; she knows they aren't coming back.

When midnight rolls around, they convoy up and head to Jackson. Dean takes the lead in his Jeep, Cas following with the other Dean, the one who shouldn't be here. Risa brings up the rear in her truck, a silent Yaeger riding shotgun, looking out the window with his thousand-mile stare.

It's two hours on what's left of Highway 35, and the radio's no use: all static where it isn't warnings delivered in clipped tones. She has Yaeger pick at random from her box of OPM tapes. Her Tagalog is rusty, but she catches every third word, all love lost and heartbreak -- a good soundtrack for the end of the world.

The Jeep's high beams spray mottled light against the forest. A murder of crows flaps black across the canopy.

* * *

Team Diversion barrels in the sanitarium's front door, leaving the two Deans to do the sneaking around back. Oughta be hot with crotes, but instead it's eerie in its stillness. Place looks to have been abandoned in a haphazard hurry, probably when the virus hit. Scattered files and toppled chairs greet them at the front desk. They skulk along the institutional green walls, hand signals and guns at the ready.

End of the hall, there's a large room where residents might have eaten or shared their feelings or made the sad papier-mâché art now being crushed underfoot. Risa catches a glimpse of movement and gives Yaeger and Castiel the high sign.

The hulking form that once was Sam Winchester looms in the doorway. Lucifer's wearing Dean's brother, a ridiculous white suit, and way too satisfied a smile. They open fire, but he doesn't flinch, just raises a hand in a dismissive gesture.

Sound rushes in a roar before she staggers under the burden of silence. Vision flickers to a pinpoint. Risa smells roses, and as her knees give way and she drops her semi-auto, she wonders if the other Dean will get a chance to rewrite this history.

* * *

  


* * *

First time in Ohio, and Risa's passing up Cleveland and Columbus for a second-rate destination like Canton. She's not here for the wax museum or the Pro Football Hall of Fame, despite what the billboards on the highway seem to assume. There are other attractions, like the Nite Owl motel.

Once housekeeping finishes in the unit across from the classic Chevy, Risa picks the lock and lets herself in. Opening the street-side window gives her an ideal sightline. The midday sky's a hazy blue streaked with diffuse clouds, reflecting off the Chevy's hood.

Two guys amble around the corner; the one finishing the phone call must be Dean. Green eyes and freckles make an appealing package; Risa's interested despite herself. Other hunters say things about the brothers Winchester that make her hair stand on end; that's why she's here. But there's something intriguing about Dean; makes her wish they could meet. Never gonna happen, of course. Not in this lifetime.

Risa lets herself linger, looking longer than she should, as Dean's eyes crinkle with laughter; she didn't stake out this spot to wait for him. She hesitates as a woman pushes a housekeeping cart behind them, and then they're standing at the car, Dean closer to her. She's missed that opportunity.

Duffel bags are being tossed into the trunk, and she waits for them to close it. Chances are, too many weapons in there. Adjusting her telescopic sight, she pans right. Sam Winchester, in the flesh. Less talk on Dean's part and more moving out of the way would be nice; Sam looms above Dean, but only just. He more or less matches the tattered printout of a mug shot Walt sent her; the picture shows him sullen, while in real life he's smiling as his brother hands him the car keys.

Finally Sam passes Dean and walks to her side of the car; the moments as he brings the key to the lock stretch out like the summer days of childhood.

Risa chambers a round in her bolt-action sniper rifle, then lines up the crosshairs. She's gonna save the world.


End file.
